


Two Minutes Flat

by goseaward



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:20:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26410300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goseaward/pseuds/goseaward
Summary: "I have had hundreds of years to learn this precious body," Yusuf says, ignoring Nicolò's pained expression. "I can play it like the finest violinist draws music from her instrument.""Or I'm just really easy," Nicolò says.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 20
Kudos: 377





	Two Minutes Flat

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to seascribe and celli for the beta, and eloiserummaging for helping me with Latin capitalization! Any remaining errors are my own.

Above Nicolò's hip, there is an interesting little groove in the muscles of his belly. The hairs there are very soft, and Yusuf likes to rub his thumb through the dip, smoothing the hairs down and then letting them prickle against his skin as he works his way back up. A hundred years in, neither Yusuf nor Nicolò would have said that that spot was very sensitive for Nicolò. By now, Yusuf's enjoyment has trained Nicolò's response, and Nicolò settles himself deeper into the arm Yusuf has wrapped around him, leaning so Yusuf has better access. 

Andy notices, of course, rolling her eyes from the battered armchair where she's sitting with one leg slung over the arm. The film they're currently watching on Netflix was her choice, but she's always too restless to pay full attention for long. "Two minutes," she says.

"Ten," Nicolò says.

Nile gives both of them a puzzled look.

"Three," Andy says.

"Give me a little credit," Yusuf says. He rubs his thumb again, and he can feel Nicolò's sigh of pleasure in all the places they touch.

"One, then."

Nicolò presses a kiss to Yusuf's jaw without looking away from Andy. "Ten."

"Five, and I get to pick the next two films."

Nicolò makes a face. Andy is the only one of them who really likes action films--everyone else usually wants a break. But he says, "Deal."

Andy pauses the film and stands up. "Nile, come with me."

Still looking confused, Nile follows her out the door.

Yusuf sets a timer on his watch. Nicolò grins at him. "How close are we going to cut it this time?" he asks.

"Four fifty-two?" Yusuf suggests.

"I'll still be coming when they come back in," Nicolò says. "Four forty-five. Enough time to come down and zip up."

Yusuf responds by leaning in and kissing his neck, over the pulse point. That heartbeat has been his timekeeper for hundreds of years, and he lets it throb against his lips, even as he's reaching down to unzip Nicolò's trousers. Nicolò moves with him, tilting his head to expose more of his throat, shifting his hips so that it's easy for Yusuf to pull his cock out and stroke it firmly, tight and short near the head, just how Yusuf knows Nicolò likes it.

Nicolò dips his head down and nudges Yusuf's face until Yusuf meets his mouth in a kiss. The finest thing he's ever tasted, Nicolò's mouth in passion. 

For a minute at least, he lets the kiss distract him, stroking Nicolò off and feeling Nicolò's faint moans at the movement of his hand. At last he draws back so he can focus on his work, moving his hands down to play with Nicolò's balls, liking the way Nicolò tries to spread his thighs further so Yusuf has better access. The jeans restrict him, with not enough room in the crotch for what they're doing, but if Nicolò couldn't get off in a tight situation they'd sometimes go months without sex and neither of them is equipped for that level of denial. Yusuf nuzzles the side of Nicolò's face as he moves his hand back to Nicolò's cock, his hand exactly the right shape to curl around the thick shaft.

"Am I doing you?" Nicolò says unsteadily, brushing his hand across Yusuf's own cock, visibly hard through his clothes.

"Not right now," Yusuf says. He likes doing this for Nicolò and not doing anything for himself. Taking care of his boy. He grins against Nicolò's ear. 

"I don't want to know what you're thinking," Nicolò says, but his voice is too strained for it to sting.

Yusuf digs his hand up under Nicolò's shirt and tugs at the closest nipple. It makes Nicolò groan out loud, and Yusuf hopes Andy took Nile far away when they went. He closes his hand tighter, jerks faster, and--

This is it, his favorite moment. Not the moment Nicolò comes, or even the moment before; the moment maybe half a minute earlier, where Nicolò stops fighting himself, fighting the pleasure, and surrenders to it, lets the current tow him to orgasm, unstoppable. His muscles go lax and his hips tilt into Yusuf's hand just so, and Yusuf squeezes even tighter and keeps a rhythm as steady as Nicolò's heartbeat until Nicolò bites hard against the corner of Yusuf's jaw and comes into his hand. 

Yusuf checks his watch. 4:38. Dammit.

Nicolò's head has slipped down onto Yusuf's shoulder and he catches his breath resting there. Yusuf kisses his hair and wipes his hand off on a tissue.

"How'd we do?" Nicolò asks after a brief pause, reaching down to zip himself up. When Yusuf doesn't answer right away, he looks up. "Missed the moment, did you?"

"Four thirty-eight," Yusuf admits.

"You're too sexy. I couldn't help myself."

"I'm sure you'll take it out on me later."

"Mmm," Nicolò says. "Shouldn't they be back?"

They both stare at the door. 

Andy and Nile don't come back until six and a half minutes from the moment they left. By then, Yusuf and Nicolò's respiration and heart rates have returned to normal, and Nicolò even had time to spray a little air freshener. Andy glares when she smells it.

Nile waits until after the movie's over to say, "Two minutes? Really?"

Andy picks up her glass and Nile's and heads for the kitchenette. "I'm not staying for this."

"I have had hundreds of years to learn this precious body," Yusuf says, ignoring Nicolò's pained expression. "I can play it like the finest violinist draws music from her instrument."

"Or I'm just really easy," Nicolò says.

Yusuf squeezes him and Nicolò cuddles back. Nile's expression is caught somewhere between disgust and affection, which is exactly what Yusuf was going for.

***

In bed that night, Nicolò holds up his phone with a timer on the screen. Two minutes. He waits for Yusuf's nod.

Yusuf grabs the headboard: he's going to need it. He's not even hard yet. 

Nicolò fixes that first, kissing him hard then biting his way from Yusuf's mouth to his cock. He sucks the whole thing in, keeps sucking, a hard steady pressure with flicks of his tongue over the head. It all pushes hard against the limits of Yusuf's oversensitivity, as soft and unready as he is, but never crosses over the line; Nicolò knows him so well by now. Nicolò bobs his head and it almost feels like he's sculpting Yusuf's dick with his mouth, lengthening it with every pull away from Yusuf's body. Before long Yusuf is sweating and fully hard. Beyond hard. His poor confused balls are squeezing up hard against the base of his dick, too much too fast.

"Nicolò," he says.

Nicolò doesn't stop sucking, but he rolls his head to the side and looks up at Yusuf, bright blue under thick dark lashes. 

Yusuf had planned to tell him to stop but the look on his face-- Like it will kill him if Yusuf asks. So Yusuf won't. He reaches down instead and cups his balls, rubbing his thumb along them in counterpoint to the movement of Nicolò's head.

It's a lot of sensation packed into very little time. The hot wet feeling of Nicolò's mouth around him, suction and his wicked tongue, hitting every sensitive spot Yusuf has, and the hand around the base when Yusuf gets all the way hard and longer than Nicolò likes to take. How he looks, slitted blissful eyes and cheeks hollowed, the obscene red stretch of his mouth. His fingers gripping Yusuf's thigh, tense points of pressure holding him down. The way Yusuf still wants to thrust, though he knows Nicolò doesn't like it; the way he holds himself back. Nicolò's muffled moans as Yusuf's cock fills his mouth. Even the weight of Nicolò between his legs, feeling his chest expand as he breathes, the unbelievable miracle of his life here with Yusuf--

Before he's really ready it crests, and he comes into Nicolò's mouth. He can't quite stop himself thrusting then, but Nicolò knows him and is ready. Yusuf hears the phone beep as his hips bump up a second time, pushing more come into Nicolò's throat, and it's only later when Nicolò has settled into his arms that he says, "Why did your phone go off?"

"Two minutes."

"That was an alarm? You asshole," Yusuf says fondly.

"I wanted us both to be very clear that I won."

Yusuf sighs and kisses his hair. Nicolò kisses his nose, affectionate in victory. Affectionate, too, as they settle in to rest and Yusuf hears the quiet litany of "I love you, te amo, ti amo, أحبك, te véuggio bén," every language Nicolò knows, every meaning slightly different and every one fully true, over and over, until Yusuf falls asleep.

***

Yusuf stares at the text to the group chat.

_Three hours what?_ he types back.

_You two. Three hours,_ Nile says. _Take your time. Live a little._

_We do, but we don't usually tell you._

_If I see you before dinner I'm sending you straight back to your room._

"We are being told to fuck slowly by a person who is twenty-six years old," Yusuf informs Nicolò, who's lying on the bed, reading. They're lucky enough to have a multi-room flat this time, and Yusuf and Nicolò had claimed the master bedroom, to no complaints.

"I remember being twenty-six," Nicolò says, taking off his shirt.

"No you don't."

Nicolò grins at him. "I remember it very well. That was the year I was assigned to minister to a remote monastery."

"Oh, a monastery. Surrounded by men. I am sure it was a time full of great spiritual fulfillment." Yusuf's heard this story before, in both its true and pornographic forms, and he always enjoys it.

"It was," Nicolò agrees gravely, smile still dancing in his eyes. "I found myself in need of prayer...so many times a day. Take off your clothes, I want to remember it."

Yusuf kicks off his pants and then his underwear after that. He'd already been shirtless, the summer heat oppressive in this northern building without ventilation even though they have air conditioning. Nile had asked the other day if it seemed soft to them, climate control after so many years without. Nicolò had proudly declared air conditioning one of the great inventions: why suffer when you don't need to?

"Mmm, yes," Nicolò says, raking his eyes down Yusuf's nude body. "Just like the summer I was twenty-six, minus a little foreskin."

Yusuf walks over to the bed, grabs the waistband of Nicolò's jeans and tugs them down without undoing the zip. He's already getting hard and Yusuf kisses his cock before he climbs onto the bed, lying along Nicolò's body, knowing he'll fit wherever he goes. "What are you in the mood for?"

"How slowly did Nile say?"

"Three hours."

"Mmm, then fucking," Nicolò says. He kisses the tip of Yusuf's nose. "I want your ass."

"It's yours, as all of me is yours."

"Stop being poetic when I'm trying to be dirty." Nicolò's hand slips down his back, onto the body part in question.

Yusuf touches Nicolò's cheek. "Uerum a te metuo tuoque pene infesto pueris bonis malisque." 

"Oh _no_ , we are not doing Catullus today," Nicolò says, and cuts Yusuf off with a kiss.

There's never a time when Yusuf _doesn't_ want to kiss Nicolò, so he brushes the backs of his curled fingers carefully over Nicolò's cheekbones and then lets his palms fit around his occiput, holding Nicolò to him, as sweet and precious as anything Yusuf has ever known. His tongue sends sparks down Yusuf's spine, and he breathes in against Nicolò's cheek, wanting to smell him as much as taste and see and feel and hear: nothing in his mind, in his senses but him.

"Mellitos oculos tuos, si quis me sinat usque basiare, usque ad milia basiem trecenta nec numquam uidear satur futurus," he says when Nicolò moves to press gentle close-mouthed kisses against his face. 

Yusuf can feel the fond curve of Nicolò's mouth against his cheek. "That one is okay." Nicolò kisses both cheeks, back and forth. "Hello."

"Hello," Yusuf says gently, amused.

"I want to tell you a secret."

Slowly, Yusuf draws a finger along Nicolò's jawline. "Tell me."

"I love you," Nicolò says.

Yusuf hums happily. "That's a very good secret. Can I tell you one, too?"

"I don't know, is it one I want to hear?" Nicolò shuffles their bodies around so he's draped fully on Yusuf's chest, weight pressing him down into the mattress. "Is it as good as mine?"

"I like everything about you," Yusuf says, "even when you beat me at things."

Nicolò grins delightedly. "That's good, since I beat you a lot. I will remind you of this next time you are a sore loser." He rolls off Yusuf and goes digging in the drawer of the bedside table.

Yusuf strokes his cock, getting up to full hardness. It's always better that way for him, getting fucked. Nicolò takes it soft as happily as hard, but that's never been Yusuf's way. He stretches one foot out to bump Nicolò's hip as he sorts through whatever he's looking for. Lube, probably, which he's certainly by now covered by books, weapons, and whatever odds and ends he's collected in the two weeks they've been living here. Nicolò grabs his foot and starts pulling on his toes one by one as his other hand continues to search. He knows Yusuf likes how dirty that feels. Yusuf takes a moment to appreciate the aesthetics of Nicolò's naked body, lean and strong, dark body hair, pale skin with a dusting of moles that Yusuf could draw from memory and know by touch in the dark. Utterly beautiful. 

"I'm getting lonely," Yusuf says.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Find the lube and get back here."

Rolling his eyes, Nicolò holds up the bottle and crawls back across the bed. He slicks up two fingers and delves between Yusuf's thighs with one hand, even as he pulls him in for another kiss. Yusuf lets his legs flop out and Nicolò smoothly pushes the fingers inside him. Yusuf opens for him, cedes ground to him, and Nicolò responds by gentling himself: not the usual response. But then, three hours.

Nicolò's fingers are moving carefully, exploratorially. Yusuf's held open by the stretch of their width, but Nicolò seems more interested in stroking him than prepping him, rubbing around inside. Getting him slick, making him feel sensitive and slack. After some time he curls his fingers up to finally press against Yusuf's prostate, making him moan, which makes Nicolò smile again, against Yusuf's lips this time. Yusuf pours it all into the kiss. Too much sensation and pleasure for one body: let Nicolò have some of it. _As all of me is yours._

"Do you want three?" Nicolò asks, after an interminable amount of time, when Yusuf has started to moan with every twitch inside him.

Yusuf hesitates. Normally he doesn't even need two: they've had a lot of practice, he can take Nicolò without pain--or with pain, if that's what he's in the mood for. But he's enjoying this slow, worshipful stretching, Nicolò's face near his face, close to getting off but not quite there. "I might come if you do three," he admits.

Watching his expression, Nicolò says, "We have three hours."

Yusuf nods and on the next thrust, he can feel himself opening more, stretching more. The pressure inside him is firmer now, less directed but harder all the same. Nicolò moves so he can get his hand on Yusuf's cock, and it doesn't take long before he comes, clenching tight on Nicolò's fingers and spurting all over Nicolò's hand and Yusuf's own belly.

Nicolò leaves his fingers inside and grabs tissues to clean Yusuf up, being careful of his oversensitive cock. Yusuf's equal parts grateful and disappointed. They've done that before, made him come and then not stopped, but he's enjoying Nicolò's cautious, reverent treatment today. Nicolò leans in to press his tongue to Yusuf's nipples, then moves, tracing the veins down his arms and sucking each finger in his mouth in turn, kissing down his thighs and across the inside of his knees until Yusuf has started to rock on his fingers again. He's not all the way hard, but combined with the sensitivity of a recent orgasm it's still startlingly good.

"Whenever you want," Yusuf says.

Nicolò flicks his eyes up at Yusuf, makes eye contact for a brief moment that conveys more than most people could tell Yusuf in five minutes of speaking, and licks around his fingers where they're stuffed inside Yusuf's body. He knows what Yusuf prefers and will wait until he's hard again. Yusuf sighs out and twists his hands in the bedsheets, letting Nicolò do what he likes.

Finally, Yusuf feels fingers slipping out of his body. Nicolò snuffles through the slightly sweaty join of Yusuf's hip and groin, blows air against Yusuf's belly as he moves back up so they're face to face. "On your side, handsome," he says, his eyes a ring of clear blue around pools of deepest black, and Yusuf rolls up and away from him. It's Yusuf's favorite position.

Nicolò slots himself behind Yusuf and reaches down to position himself. Yusuf's eyes close at the first press in, so satisfyingly easy after the time Nicolò took with him. It always feels different, every time, even if it's achingly familiar at the same time. Nicolò braces Yusuf with a hand on his hip as he pushes forward until all of him is inside Yusuf. With his mouth opened against Yusuf's shoulder blade, hot breath gusting out of him, he starts to move within Yusuf, and Yusuf cries out at the first perfectly aimed thrust.

They both mean for it to be slow, and it is, a steady humid grind, Nicolò's fingers moving down to stroke Yusuf's cock in time with his interior strokes. He layers kisses and bites all over Yusuf's shoulders, perfect, and when he comes he presses his hips tight so there's no air between them and holds Yusuf in place with an arm draped across his belly, so he stays inside as long as he can, then slips out, his quiescent cock still warm and pleasurable against Yusuf's thighs. It isn't long before he's hard enough to work his way back inside. Yusuf comes too, again, and Nicolò fucks him straight through it this time, rolling him onto his stomach, hands and mouth all over him like he can never get enough. Yusuf understands the feeling.

Nicolò doesn't pull out even once they've finished, lying across Yusuf's back and breathing into his neck until their heartbeats have both calmed to normal. "If I could be sore, I'd be sore," Yusuf tells him as he finally rolls to the side. Even now Yusuf can feel a small twinge when he moves his legs; he enjoys it while it lasts.

Nicolò smiles at him. "I did all the work. I should also be sore."

"You deserve it," Yusuf agrees. 

Nicolò stretches, which Yusuf watches with interest. "I need a shower. Together?"

Yusuf laughs. "You overestimate my stamina."

"Not that kind of shower." Nicolò flops one arm at him, as if going for a playful punch but not quite having the energy for it. "I will clean you up very nicely. You will like it."

"I suppose we can," Yusuf says. "Once my legs work."

Nicolò smirks at him in the most self-satisfied way he has. "Maybe I will carry you."

"Not doing that again." Yusuf reaches over and twines their fingers together. "Side by side."

Later, they go down to dinner hand in hand, and Nile looks smug when she sees them. Not nearly as smug as Yusuf suspects he and Nicolò look, though, so he lets her take the win.

**Author's Note:**

> One of my locked friends on Twitter started speculating about how often Joe and Nicky would have to have sex in order to have sex a million times. This inspired me to think, "Man, after a thousand years, I bet they're really good at getting each other off." Then....this happened.
> 
> Nicky says I love you in English, Latin, Italian, Arabic, and Genoese. I got all of them but English off Google searches because I don't speak any of those languages, so please feel free to correct me if I got them wrong. This also means they're all modern versions.
> 
> Joe quotes sections of two poems by Catullus, who famously wrote a bunch of dirty poems in Latin about both men and women. The first is Catullus 15, http://rudy.negenborn.net/catullus/text2/e15.htm, with the English translation given as "In truth, I am afraid of you and your penis, hostile to boys, both good and bad." The second is Catullus 48, http://rudy.negenborn.net/catullus/text2/e48.htm, with English translation:  
> "Juventius, if I could play at kissing  
> your honeyed eyes as often as I wished to,  
> 300,000 games would not exhaust me;  
> never could I be satisfied or sated"  
> although Joe leaves out the name Juventius. It breaks the meter, of course, but not the sentiment.


End file.
